Boy. Bellona's seed, the glory of old Rome,
Envy of conquer'd Nations, nobly come
And to the fulness of your war-like noise
Let your feet move, make up this hour of joys;
Come, come I say, range your fair Troop at large,
And your high measure turn into a charge.
Semp. The Emperor's grown heavy with his wine.
Afra. The Senate staies Sir for your thanks.
Semp. Great Cæsar.
Eud. I have my wish.
Afra. Wilt please your Grace speak to him?
Eud. Yes, but he will not hear Lords.
Semp. Stir him Lucius; the Senate must have thanks.
2 Sen. Luc. Your Grace, Sir Cæsar.
Eud. Did I not tell you he was well? he's dead.